I have been running my newest slave through the rigors of belonging to me. He's starting to understand that he's no longer human to me. He's just a responsive punching bag filled with emotions that he best keep to himself. That is, if he knows what's good for him.

I have my putrid little pet strung up, he openly displays his misery which somehow soothes me. I almost wish that I could frame his agony and hang it on my bedroom wall, something that could always bring a smile to my lips. I have just finished off his pathetic little penis. Now I'm going to focus on his hind quarters wit...

I have been running my newest slave through the rigors of belonging to me. He's starting to understand that he's no longer human to me. He's just a responsive punching bag filled with emotions that he best keep to himself. That is, if he knows what's good for him.

I have my putrid little pet strung up, he openly displays his misery which somehow soothes me. I almost wish that I could frame his agony and hang it on my bedroom wall, something that could always bring a smile to my lips. I have just finished off his pathetic little penis. Now I'm going to focus on his hind quarters with a painful and brutal rattan cane. I love the lines that it leaves upon the sides of his legs as it wraps itself around him. His twisting motions as he attempts to elude that, that cannot be made illusive. The pain that I pour upon him is heard in his grunts and groans, the Whistling of my cane as it slices through the air before reaping destruction upon his flesh, rows of welts develop to mark what is MINE and I like it.